Friday Nights
by SkySeven
Summary: After not speaking for 4 years, Harry and Hermione spend a Friday night together after the dissolution of their respective relationships with Ginny and Ron.
1. New Beginnings

**Friday Nights**

A/N: Depending on the reception of this first chapter, I'll continue. Secondly, this story is unique in one respect: there's a musical aspect to it. Please go to http://sites dot google dot com/site/fridaynightsfic/Home and download the mp3 that I performed that is featured in the story. You'll know when to play it. Anyone interesting in being my beta, please let me know  Finally, I obviously don't own any of this stuff.

_Chapter 1_

It was Friday night, and the apartment seemed empty.

Harry Potter sat alone in his well furnished flat, on the east side of London. He could see the fading daylight through his icy windows as he glanced out, and wondered where his sun had gone. He looked pensively at his half drunk bottle of Ogden's, poured a few fingers worth, and turned away.

He walked over to the living room and sat in front of the quietly smoldering fire. The orange hue of the flames danced reflectively in the amber liquid of his glass and he smiled slightly, realizing that the putrid stuff was very aptly named. He took a small tip, and swirled the liquid. He wondered why people sip whiskey. Perhaps they simply liked the pain.

"It reminds them." He thought.

He reached over and picked up his guitar, a 60's Gibson acoustic that he had bought at a muggle garage sale before his final year at Hogwarts. It had nicks and scratches on it, but it spoke to Harry like few had. There was something to be said about an old, handmade instrument. His guitar would never leave him.

He had a ribbon of green tied to the headstock, and the wood of the body was flamed in a sunburst pattern, the colors capturing the different emotions of the guitar. The obsidian black around the edges, for the solitary testaments of depression. The dark amber captured the bitterness of a shattering love song. The blazing yellow projected the reflection of a campfire singalong, and the memories of a time long past. Dumbledore had told him that music could be cathartic, subtly implying that he needed a release that didn't involve juvenile emotional tantrums. Harry had a feeling he would be exploring the darker overtones of his instrument this evening.

He was fingering through a few chords, trying to focus on the melancholy minor notes when he heard a gentle knock on the door. It was so soft that he wasn't sure if he had even heard it. After a moment of thought, he walked over to the door, and opened it, wondering who he still had in his life that would be looking for him. The cold winter air was quickly sucked into the entrance hall of his flat, bringing with it a few remaining autumn leaves.

Hermione Granger was standing there on his front step, bundled up from the cold in her old Gryffindor scarf, a brimmed knit hat, and a warm red winter jacket. She wore well fitting jeans and running shoes. She hadn't seen Harry in over 4 years.

When Harry first opened the door, she looked like she had been about to turn around and hurry away, but seeing Harry had paralyzed her. There was something different about him that she couldn't quite place. Something around the eyes.

"Can I come in?" She asked, with a pleading look on her face.

With a word, he could crush her.

Harry's eyes seemed to brighten a little when he saw her standing before him. In the same moment, as if remembering something, they dulled. He shrugged noncommittally and walked back inside, leaving the door slightly open. She hesitated, then crossed the threshold.

Hermione walked through the front hall behind Harry into his warm living room. She noticed that the walls were green. She hadn't know that Harry had liked green. There were no pictures up.

Harry sat back down on the sofa and picked up his guitar again, largely ignoring the new presence in the room. Hermione sat in the love seat opposite him, and folded her knees underneath her, like she had done years ago as a student in the Gryffindor common room, long before Ron had asked her out, long before Ginny and Harry started dating, and long before she and Harry had irreconcilably broken off their friendship.

He plucked a few notes in silence, remembering a song he had learned long ago.

A minor, F, G, E, F, G, A minor.

"It goes like this, the fourth, the fifth, the minor fall, and the major lift", he thought wryly. A small smile played on his lips.

"You've gotten a lot better," said Hermione, who was staring at his fingers, as they traveled sullenly along the worn rosewood fretboard. "I remember when the bar chords used to give you trouble."

Harry raised a single eyebrow, but didn't look at her. The fire projected its flickering light over both him and her, the golden light highlighting the depth of the sound.

"Well maybe there's a God above,  
But all I've ever learned from love  
Was how to shoot somebody who out drew you.  
And it's not a cry that you hear at night,  
It's not somebody who's seen the light  
It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah."

He sang the words.

Hermione had never known that Harry could sing. The first think that Hermione thought was that it was real. It was a last testament to a broken heart. His voice was not refined, not pretty, but rather styled in the manner of sandpaper - coarse but fragile.

There was nothing fake about it.

-------

"It amazes me that we're in this situation right now." said Hermione.

"She left." said Harry.

"I know." said Hermione.

"Did you know what she was planning?"

"I found out about it today."

Hermione paused.

"I also found out why."

Harry stopped playing. He put the guitar down.

"It was Ron," she said, "I want you to know that I left him for good earlier this afternoon."

"What did he do?" Harry asked.

"He set Ginny up with one of the star players on his team. Apparently he makes millions of pounds a year."

"More than me." replied Harry, dumbly.

"Yes, more than you." Hermione got up and sat next to him, their shoulders slightly touching as she sunk into the plush cushions.

"Somehow I don't seem to miss her so much anymore." He was about to take a sip of his fire whiskey, but he stopped. He looked at her.

"Do you think that we're blind to not have seen this coming? It seems like the Weasley's have been scheming for years about one thing or another."

He considered something for a moment.

"You never did say those things did you."

"Harry, I would never have said that about Sirius. You know that I love both him and you with everything I have. His death was Lestrange's fault, not yours."

"I guess I just never thought that both Ron and Ginny would go in together on a lie to separate us. I was just so hurt that you would say something like that. I'm so sorry that I didn't listen. Can you forgive me?"

"Harry, we've lost years together. Of course I do. I just want to be in your life again."

Harry smiled genuinely for the first time that day. After a moment, his forehead crinkled in thought.

"Do you think they saw us as a threat?"

"What sort of threat?" asked Hermione, though she had worked out the answer earlier today.

"I don't know," said Harry, feeling frustrated and angry. "To their 'master plan'. Ron latching onto the brightest witch of our generation, and Ginny getting the famed 'Boy Who Lived'".

Hermione was quiet for a moment.

"It seems pretty likely, though I don't think that mattered much to Ron. I think he just wanted me because he didn't want you to have me. He was unhealthily obsessed with the notion that you got everything."

Harry reached over and gently grasped her hand.

"Let's make a resolution then," he said firmly, " No. More. Weasleys."

She looked at him and smiled.

"It's a deal."

--------

"Now through this door is my private library, but I doubt that much in there would interest you..." said Harry, steering Hermione in the opposite direction down the hall.

"Harry Potter, the day I let you steer me away from a library is the day that I enslave a house elf!" Hermione stomped her foot in and put her hands threateningly on her waist.

"Even if" she continued with mock disdain, "your scholarly pursuits are limited to Quidditch manuals."

"Indeed, I certainly wouldn't think of progressing at all since my teenage years." Harry said, rolling his eyes at Hermione's back as she charged past him towards his library.

He walked in behind her, as she walked up to the first book case, her fingers gliding along the rows, looking at the various titles.

Her eyes lit up when she arrived at the second bookcase.

"Your collection of muggle literature on the previous bookcase was impressive enough, but what got you interested in history?"

Harry pondered her question for a moment, as Hermione continued to look over the substantial tomes, which ranged from the Industrial Revolution to Russian monarchs.

"I guess I just always wondered how we got here. Not that whole 'how were we created' evolutionary business", he said with a dismissive hand wave, "but rather, how did our society get here? I guess battling dark lords makes a person a little reflective."

"That's just brilliant Harry, I'm glad that you've found something that interests you. Have you been taking classes at a muggle university then?"

Harry smiled slightly.

"I haven't been working much over the past few years, so I've had a lot of time for school. I'm actually enrolled in a Ph.D program in the United States. I would portkey over there every morning, and come back every night to be with Ginny, though I can't say she really understood why I enjoyed academia. I should be starting my dissertation next year." He finished with a slight blush.

Hermione's draw dropped, as she tried to comprehend what Harry had said. Harry Potter, the "Hermione, can I see your potions essay" Potter, had turned into an academic?

"Wha..wha..What's your concentration in?" she asked, still trying to get over her shock.

"Well, I'm mostly concentrating on more recent history, largely on the industrial revolution both in the United States and in England."

"That's fascinating. I was reading a journal on comparative law, and the different liability standards during that period provided economic incentives for business growth, but at the same time victims of accidents were largely helpless and unable to win in court and recover for damages."

Harry's eyes were regaining their green twinkle, and Hermione now noticed that was what had been missing.

"I think we're finally speaking the same language, Hermione." he said with a smile.

-------------------

"Fine, I pay for the Chinese food, AND grant you a coupon redeemable for one patented Harry Potter backrub, in return for the rights to pick the movie, though you have executive veto authority. That's my final offer, take it or leave it witch!" said Harry, wondering how smart it was to enter into a contract with a lawyer like Hermione.

Hermione toyed with the idea, mentally calculating how much more she could get out of him. She noticed that her bargaining power had greatly increased when she had taken off her heavy coat and had revealed that her body had changed quite a bit since Hogwarts. Deciding to be a merciful and benevolent ruler, she made up her mind.

"Deal, but remember that I have the executive veto authority, you lowly peon..." she said with a twinkle in her eye.

Harry Potter now realizing that he had somehow agreed to pay paid for her food, give her a backrub, AND in practicality to pick the movie, decided that his best bet was to embrace his lowly status in the Granger hierarchy with grace and humility.

"As you wish Lady Granger," he said, with a slightly over exaggerated bow.

Besides, perhaps giving that back massage might not be the worst thing in the world.

A/N:

1. Probably the most important part of this chapter is the song and the state Harry was in before Hermione. You can listen to me performing it, in the context of the voice I described and all at http://sites dot google dot com/site/fridaynightsfic/Home  
2. Should I continue with this? If so, it would be the gradual reformation of Harry and Hermione's friendship, perhaps something more, with a few more guitar interludes.  
3. Bonus points to anyone who gets the green ribbon reference.


	2. Backrubs, Movies, and Realizations

Chapter 2: Back Rubs, Movies, and Realizations

A/N: Realize, by Colby Caillat is the song that Harry sings. You can see a video of me playing it (with similar fireplace lighting) at http://sites dot google dot com/site/fridaynightsfic/

Harry glanced over at the brown haired girl standing beside him, as they looked for DVD's at the local store. It was amazing how much she had changed in the past four years.

Her hair was as bushy and uncontrollable as ever, but instead of giving the impression that she didn't care about her appearance, it seemed to fit her.

It was perhaps the juxtaposition between her hair and her body that Harry found so interesting. Her hair was... expansive, for a lack of a better word, and might have been appropriate for someone twice her size, but she stood only barely over 5'2". She was petite, and Harry imagined that he could pretty easily toss her over his shoulder if he chose to. He could only imagine the huffing and feigned indignation that would occur over that action. He made a mental bet with himself:

"10 to 1 she uses my middle name. I always used to know when I was in trouble when she used my full name."

He smiled, and resolved to do it at the soonest opportunity.

Hermione was aware of Harry's surreptitious glances, as she had been casting a few of her own, but she was devoting most of her thoughts to finding an inventive way to manipulate Harry into watching the specific movie she wanted to see. She supposed that she could simply just reject every one he offered until he finally gave her the choice, but that seemed petty and very Ron-like.

"Harry, did you know that the Potter's are originally Irish?" she asked in her sweetest voice.

"Yes, actually. I'm a mix though, both Irish and English."

"I love the highlands of Ireland - they're so vibrant and alive."

He looked at her, starting to get the feeling that this was going somewhere, and that he wasn't going to have much of a choice about it.

"I also LOVE fight scenes. Not any of that new aged business with special effects. There's nothing like a good bit of old fashioned rough housing in a movie." she said looking wistfully at a movie, her soft chocolate eyes starting to go into pouting mode.

Harry looked at her, eyes sparkling, catching on to her tone.

"Indeed." he said.

"And there's this one movie, set in Ireland, that has the most incredible love story."

Harry snorted.

"AND it has one of the longest fight scene in movie history."

Harry pondered for a moment. He should have known that he wouldn't have a chance resisting her. He never could. Perhaps he could get something out of this though. He assumed his best McGonnagal impersonation.

"Ms. Granger, in my extensive studies, I've come across an ancient latin phrase, used extensively in the legal profession, especially in the area of contract law." He paused for dramatic effect.

"Would you like to know what it is?" he asked, teasing her with knowledge.

"Indeed, professor." she said, somewhat breathlessly.

"Quid pro quo, Ms. Granger. Quid pro quo."

-----------

This new Harry Potter was not something that she was used to. Harry Potter had always been every girls dream - a shining white knight with a penchant for defeating Dark Lords and saving the world, but he had never been what she would call refined. He shunned the public forum (her belief was that this was why Ginny, the quintessential attention seeker, had left him for someone more in the public spotlight). Of course, he could have that spot light if he wanted it.

"Indeed, professor." she said somewhat breathlessly. Inside, she was blushing horribly. Harry's lecture voice, along with his academic expertise was some sort of aphrodisiac for her, it seemed.

"Quid pro quo, Ms. Granger. Quid pro quo."

She stood there momentarily shocked. She had never expected Harry to challenge her like this. She was used to being able to boss him around. She found it strangely exhilarating.

"And what is it, exactly, Mr. Potter, that you would like in valuable consideration for the torturous and barbaric sacrifice that I desire of you?"

"My conditions are actually rather simple, and I think that you will quickly agree." He paused, and cast her a sly glance.

"You see, women, in the wake of a patented Harry Potter backrub, are completely unable to function, as they are so relaxed that they feel that little else matters in the world besides their cocoon of bliss. I merely demand that you give me a patented Hermione Granger backrub before I bestow on you the privilege of experiencing my magic hands."

Hermione's eyes dazzled, as she began to mentally poke holes in his demand.

"I find not one, but two logical fallacies in that little statement of yours, Mr. Potter," she said, as he crossed his arms in mock indignation.

"First, knowing that you've dated one girl for most of your life, I highly doubt that you have a broad sample size to back such a strong assertion about your effectiveness. I highly doubt that your singular experiences can be applied to the entire female population, never mind a physical specimen such as me."

"Secondly," she said, gently placing a hand on his arm as she walked around him, then moving her hands slowly to the center of his back, where she firmly began kneading into his muscles, "you've never had a Hermione Granger backrub, and I highly doubt that I would get mine after I leave you in a pool of your own drool because your own brain has stopped working due to sheer ecstasy."

Harry's knees almost buckled when her fingers hit the first knot in his back.

"Well," he though wryly "Ginny has nothing on THAT."

After a few seconds, Hermione stopped and Harry turned to face her, with a rather comical expression on his face.

"Well played, Ms. Granger." he said, attempting to collect himself, and wondering, "Did Hermione Granger just flirt with me?"

"But I imagine we'll see who's right later on, won't we?"

Hermione looked back at him, positively glowing.

"I suppose we will Harry. I suppose we will."

---------------------

Harry lay facedown on the couch in front of the fire in a pool of his own drool.

Hermione sat on top of him, straddling him with her legs, as she kneaded into his back with her iron fingers. Each muscle group brought a new tenor of moans from Harry, as he gave himself up to her ministrations.

Hermione, in her own right, was greatly enjoying feeling his muscles beneath his thin t-shirt.

"Pureblood's are too lazy to develop muscles like this." she thought, taking full advantage of her cart blanch to feel him up. In a very chaste, friend like way, of course.

Harry, not exactly ignorant of Hermione's excessive contact, was starting to feel that he should be returning the favor. An evil idea slowly formed in his mind.

As Hermione was finishing with one latoral muscle, Harry turned over, essentially rotating in between her legs. This resulted with Hermione straddling him properly. He gave her an innocent smile, arching his eye brows, and asked,

"Shouldn't it be your turn now?"

Hermione was one part shocked, and one part reluctant to move, having only recently finding herself straddling Harry in the way she had been imagining only a few moments earlier.

"He couldn't have hear those thoughts, could he?" She wondered to herself, blushing slightly.

-------------------

Harry had to admit, Hermione's moans were doing things to him that friends don't normally do.

"We're just friends, I'm just giving her a backrub. Nothing more, nothing less. You haven't seen her in years. You're just getting to know her again." thought Harry, attempting to get himself under control.

Still, he had never heard her purr like that, when he softly kneaded his fingers in between her shoulder blades, or ran his hands down the length of her back.

"Think Umbrage in her knickers, taking lewd pictures with Filtch." That should do it, thought Harry.

"Hermione, would you mind if we put the movie in? I'm interested in this fight scene you keep talking about."

"I'm telling you, this is John Wayne like you've never seen him before. The Quiet Man was, in my opinion, his magnum opus."

Harry carefully, disengaged himself from Hermione, taking a moment to appreciate her bum, put in the movie and grabbed the remote. His TV was adjacent to the now smoldering fireplace and he sat down on the left of the couch, while Hermione sat in the middle.

"Do you have a blanket?" she asked. "It's not that I'm cold, it's just that after that incredible massage," Harry puffed out his chest a little in pride, "I feel a little cuddly."

"Well, I've been told that I do very well as a teddy bear." he said half jokingly, half challengingly.

Hermione scooted over to him and laid her head on his shoulder. In a moment of bravery, he lifted his arm and placed it around her.

"It's almost ironic that we'd be a perfect fit like this, isn't it?" asked Hermione, curling her legs up, her heart racing, but more content than she had been in years.

"No. It's only ironic because of the Weasley's, and what they succeeded in doing for years. I think this is as natural as anything I've ever felt in my life." He gave her a little squeeze.

Their body contact was electric.

-------------------

"So your telling me, for that scene where John Wayne drags her 5 miles across the fields to her brothers estate, Wayne and the director had kicked cow shit all over the path so she'd get it all over herself during the filming?"

"That's right," she chuckled, "apparently her and her friend got wind of it early, and they tried to remove it, but Wayne and the director came in the middle of the night before the shoot and kicked it back."

"Brilliant." breathed Harry, close to her ear, sending chills down her spine.

"Would you play me another song, Harry? Just a little bit - you don't have to play the whole thing."

Harry picked up his Gibson, whom he had named "Rose", years ago, and started plucking a few notes.

He looked over at her and took the image of her in for a moment. Her eyes locked with his.

He reached up to the head of the guitar, and slowly untied the green ribbon.

"This was hers. Her favorite color was green."

He ran his fingers over it for a few moments, before tossing it into the fire.

_Take time to realize,_

_That your warmth is. _

_Crashing down on in._

_Take time to realize,_

_That I am on your side_

_Didn't I, Didn't I tell you._

_But I can't spell it out for you,_

_No it's never gonna be that simple_

_No I cant spell it out for you_

_If you just realize what I just realized,_

_Then we'd be perfect for each other_

_And will never find another_

_Just realize what I just realized_

_We'd never have to wonder if_

_We missed out on each other now._

_Take time to realize_

_Oh-oh I'm on your side_

_Didn't I, didn't I tell you._

_Take time to realize_

_This all can pass you by_

_But I can't spell it out for you,_

_No its never gonna be that simple_

_No I can't spell it out for you._

_If you just realize what I just realized_

_Then we'd be perfect for each other_

_And we'll never find another_

_Just realize what I just realized_

_We'd never have to wonder if_

_We missed out on each other but._

_It's not the same_

_No it's never the same_

_If you don't feel it to._

_If you meet me half way_

_If you would meet me half way._

_It could be the same for you._

_If you just realize what I just realized_

_Then we'd be perfect for each other_

_And we'll never find another_

_Just realize what I just realized_

_We'd never have to wonder if_

_We missed out on each other…_

"That was beautiful Harry." she said somewhat breathlessly. Had he been singing about her?

"I find that it helps me make sense of things. Sometimes it allows you to see something that's been in front of you for years." he said, putting down his guitar and finally looking up at her.

Hermione scooted over to him and enveloped him in a smothering hug, which he returned equally.

"Hermione," he whispered, as she continued hugging him.

"Yes? What's wrong Harry?" she asked pulling back slightly, admonishing herself for being so forward.

"I was singing about you. I just wanted to make sure you 'realized' it." Harry said, using hand quotes.

"Harry James Potter!" she said, leaning back just far enough punch him on his arm.

"Of course I did." she huffed. "I'm not the smarted witch of our generation for nothing am I?"

"Prove it." said Harry.

And so she did, silencing Harry for the rest of the night.

A/N:

1. Damien Rice – Cheer's Darling, is the inspiration for the green ribbon.

2. Realize, by Colby Caillat is the song that Harry sings. You can see a video of me playing it (with similar fireplace lighting) at http://sites dot google dot com/site/fridaynightsfic/

3. I can't tell you how much I appreciated the kind reviews. I hope that this chapter didn't disappoint.


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